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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888755">Worth the Wait</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWouldBee_Enough/pseuds/ThatWouldBee_Enough'>ThatWouldBee_Enough</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hamilton - Miranda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blow Jobs, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Office Blow Jobs, Office Sex, Pining, Power Imbalance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:29:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,670</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatWouldBee_Enough/pseuds/ThatWouldBee_Enough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is hopelessly in love with his assistant</p><p>-------------------------</p><p>Prompt #7 - Blowjobs - jeffmads</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Jefferson/James Madison</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Kinktober 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Worth the Wait</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was never Thomas’s intention to fall in love with his assistant. </p><p>He had tried his best to keep some distance. To keep up a mask of perfected aloofness. To avoid letting any of his more troublesome feelings slip through. </p><p>James is a good assistant after all. A <em> fantastic </em> assistant. Thomas is quite sure he could search the whole world and not find a single person better suited to the job. And the traits that make him so good at his job also make it frustratingly hard to any secrets from him. The man is <em> impossibly </em> perceptive. </p><p>So maybe Thomas shouldn’t be surprised when he finally knocks on his office door late one night after everyone else has gone home. </p><p>“Ah, James, you’re still here. I’m just finishing up with a few things. Feel free to head out for the night.”</p><p>There’s some sort of internal argument in dark eyes that Thomas can’t quite decode,  but when James finally speaks his voice doesn't sound any different from its usual steady cadence. “I have some work to catch up on, sir, and it’s easier to focus when it’s quiet like this. If it’s all the same to you, I think I’ll stay until you’re ready to leave.”</p><p>Thomas wishes he had any sort of excuse to send him home. The thought of James here, alone with him, is too much for his already distracted thoughts to manage. The knowledge that he’d be just one room over, so close but not where Thomas truly wants him. Not in his arms. He knows he won’t get anything else done now. He should just pack up and have them <em> both </em>head home. </p><p>But his willpower isn’t that strong. </p><p>“Of course, James. Stay as late as you’d like.”</p><p>The look his assistant gives him is impossible to decipher, but it’s certainly not just the casual blandness of an employee ready to go back to his work. No, there’s <em> more </em> there. Thomas wonders if he knows. After all, James has pieced together so much about his life, why not this too? He wonders if James is even now trying to figure out the most delicate way to inform his boss that his affections are inappropriate. Or if he’s trying to decide whether to bring it to attention at all. </p><p>But all he says is, “Thank you, sir.” Then the door is closed behind him once again, and Thomas is alone. He makes a pretense at working through some of the never-ending tasks, always piling up, but all he can think about is <em> that look</em>. And– a thought that makes him feel incredibly guilty because this is not appropriate at all– those <em>eyes</em>. Dark and impossibly deep. Like the bottomless depths of the ocean or the endless eternity of the night sky. Thomas could stare for hours and still find something new in those eyes with each tick of the clock. </p><p>He is just about to pack up his things and leave– he hasn’t gotten a lick of work done since James interrupted him– when there’s another knock. Thomas whips his head up from the bag on his desk, only half packed. “Yes?”</p><p>When James walks into his office, he's as composed as ever, but there’s a certain fiery confidence that seems to emanate from his soul. He crosses the room so he’s standing directly in front of Thomas’s desk before he speaks. “Sir.” His voice is quiet– James is hardly <em> ever </em> loud– but there’s determination there. “When are we going to stop playing this game?”</p><p>Thomas feels his heart stop beating, but he forces words out anyway. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, James, but I was just about to go home for the night. Can we pick this up in the morning?”</p><p>James doesn’t move an inch. “All due respect, but no, sir. We can’t.”</p><p>“James–” </p><p>But he’s cut off. “Do you think I’m blind? Or stupid?” </p><p>Of course not. Thomas is quite sure James is the most intelligent person he’s ever met. He obviously can’t say <em>that</em> though. </p><p>“Sir, I can see the way that you look at me.”</p><p>Well, shit. </p><p>“James…” He’s not sure how to respond to that. But he <em> has </em> to say something. He doesn’t want this to fall into something irreparable. “This doesn’t need to be a problem. If you’d prefer to work somewhere else, I’d be happy to write you a recommendation.” He doesn’t want that. Of <em> course </em> he doesn’t want that. He wants James to stay right here by his side where he belongs. But he also can’t bear the thought of him staying because he’s worried about retaliation and feeling uncomfortable every single day with the knowledge that his boss wants nothing more than to kiss him. </p><p>“Sir, that’s <em> not </em> what I want.” His tone is quiet heat. There’s a certain tightness to it that Thomas is almost sure is frustration. </p><p>“Whatever you need, James. Just say the word.” He feels like he’s pleading now. He just needs James to tell him how to <em> fix this</em>. </p><p>James doesn’t tell him how to fix it though. Instead, he suddenly leans over the desk, bracing his weight with one hand, and crashes his lips forcefully against Thomas’s. </p><p>It takes Thomas a moment to recover his senses after the shock his brain takes. When he regains some semblance of control of his thoughts, James is still kissing him, warm, soft lips dancing against his own with a certain rushed impatience. As if he’s worried Thomas will realize what he’s doing and push him away at any moment. </p><p>
  <em> He should push him away. </em>
</p><p>He doesn’t. </p><p>He stays put in his chair, his face tilted up to meet his assistant’s attack head on. When James finally puts a few inches of space between them, straightening his shoulders, his face is all stubborn determination. “I needed you to know it’s okay,” he says in a near whisper. “I’m not an idiot. I could tell you wanted this, but I could also see that you were so <em> worried</em>. I don’t like seeing you like that.”</p><p>“James, you don’t have to do this for me.” His heart is so loud in his chest he’s afraid his assistant must be able to hear it too. </p><p>“<em>F</em><em>or you?</em>” he asks, some of his composure finally cracking. “Sir– <em>Thomas</em>– I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it <em> because I want to</em>.” He circles the desk, grabbing one of Thomas’s hands and tugging him up so they’re eye to eye. “Tell me I’m wrong about this, and I’ll leave. I won’t speak of it ever again. But if I’m right, god please <em> tell me</em>.”</p><p>Thomas isn’t usually short on words but he can’t find a single one now. He grabs James on either side of the face and kisses him again, trying to put all of the emotion and complicated feelings he has been hiding into the press of his tongue against barely parted lips. He can feel James shiver as he opens wider, accepts the invitation and clings onto Thomas’s bicep so he won’t lose balance. They kiss for a while, hands coming to explore and rest and stroke and feel along each other’s bodies. All of the restless energy from pent up nights alone, days in the office wondering what could be. </p><p>When James finally pulls back, it’s only to fall down to his knees, hands coming to rest firmly at Thomas’s thighs. “Please,” he whispers with desperate intensity. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long. Let me show you how much I want you.”</p><p>Thomas breaths a shaky exhale as James’s hands come to his  belt, unthreading it from around his waist and quickly moving to his fly. It’s all rushed, impatient. Thomas doesn’t mind. They’ve both waited long enough. </p><p>When James reaches to pull his cock out into the cool air, he’s embarrassingly hard already. After so many nights wondering what those lips would taste like, his cock had sprung to life on contact. He swallows down a gasp at the feeling of those fingers wrapping around warm skin as he scooches into position. The image of James licking his lips just before sliding onto his length is one Thomas is sure he’ll replay over and over again. He sinks into absolute bliss. James is as diligent and determined in this as he is in all aspects of his life, barely making a sound as he focuses on the task. Unsure what to do with his hands, Thomas places one on his shoulder and the other comes to rest gently at the back of his head. “James,” he moans softly at a slide of tongue. It’s better than he could have dreamed of.</p><p>Eventually, even though Thomas would be content with this wonder going on forever, he can’t hold back his impending orgasm. He grips a little tighter at James’s shoulder. “James, I’m close.” His voice is tight with the effort of holding himself back and the tension strung tight in every muscle of his body as he reaches closer, closer, closer. It is blindingly perfect, and the knowledge that it's James– <em>his James</em>– just makes it all the sweeter. </p><p>He hums a note of assent, and it’s the only prompting Thomas needs. He spills hot and fast over James’s tongue, gripping tighter as he swallows around him, drinking down every last drop. After what feels like far too short a time, James is sitting back on his heels, wiping his face with the back of his hand to clean it of any residual mess. </p><p>Thomas takes him in as he catches his breath. He’s beautiful. As beautiful as all of his dreams and every reckless fantasy. Even more beautiful perhaps because he knows this time it’s <em> real</em>. “My god,” he sighs, sounding almost as reverential as the words imply. </p><p>James smiles up at him, then pulls himself up on steady feet and tugs Thomas in for one more quick kiss. “Worth the wait.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments are always appreciated!</p><p>I'm over on tumblr @ilovefoodandgirls</p></blockquote></div></div>
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